Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Difficult, intractable, tortu(r)ous.

Holy Shit!

The most disturbing paragraph I’ve read this week is as follows:

The first treatment for ischemic priapism is “therapeutic aspiration.” The urologist sticks a needle into the side of the penis and draws blood directly from the cavernosa. The same needle is sometimes used to inject saline solution into the penis, which can help flush out the remaining blood. Aspiration and irrigation work around 25 percent to 30 percent of the time. Doctors can also inject drugs that constrict the arteries and cut off penile blood flow. Injections are given every few minutes for about an hour.

So it looks like your “minor complications” from Viagra and the like include blindness and sharp steel. The male wang is a delicate thing; I think I’ll take my chances with nature. If the issue ever, erm, fails to arise, that is.


Posted by Johno on 05/31/05 at 08:56 PM
Holy Shit! • Permalink

Unfinished Business

Crazy Foreigners

We never should have stopped at Yorktown. We never should have given those poxy damned smelly and toothless gits their own nation, their own empire, their own sovereignty. We had the men, we had the ships, we had the momentum. Washington should have pressed on until London, York, Newcastle were all firmly in American hands. That way, we would never know the shame of the country that made us great doing something as shameful as this. Decay is an ugly thing, whether it’s a tooth or the collective tastes of a sovereign people.

Wonderwall? If Wonderwall why not something truly vile like Robson & Jerome or 2-4-6-8 Motorway? The only thing worse than a bad job is a bad job done half-assed.

ht: Michele


Posted by Johno on 05/31/05 at 04:55 PM
Crazy Foreigners • Permalink

Why make a soundtrack when it’s the same old stuff anyway?

Music Wonkery

Something’s been on my mind lately and, lacking any other material to post, might as well throw it out to both our readers:

What is the most over-used music in film? 

I’m thinking specifics here, not the every-time-something-happens-in-Australia-cue-the-didgeridoo type of observation, or the swelling-string-section-in-each-cloying-love-scene type.

For my money, it would have to be everything from The Nutcracker, with second place split between James Brown’s Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag and I Got You.


Posted by GeekLethal on 05/31/05 at 02:39 PM
Music Wonkery • Permalink

They Call Me… Deep Throat

Holy Shit!

The man who they call Deep Throat has reportedly come forward.

W. Mark Felt, 91, who was second-in-command at the FBI in the early 1970s, kept the secret even from his family until 2002, when he confided to a friend that he had been Post reporter Bob Woodward’s source, the magazine said.

“I’m the guy they used to call Deep Throat,” he told lawyer John D. O’Connor, the author of the Vanity Fair article, the magazine said in a news release.

Wow. Even so, I still prefer to think of Deep Throat as two cute blondes with weed cookies.


Posted by Johno on 05/31/05 at 02:17 PM
Holy Shit! • Permalink

The Geek In Me Is Crying

Just So You Know

What a frustrating weekend! I lost [an insignificant but irritating amount of money] to an 11 year old playing Texas Hold ‘Em. Really! (Poker discussion to follow… nonfans may skip ahead to the part where I watch Star Wars]. I play a very tight game and seem to have a good head for odds and a good sense for strength at the table. I was able to outlast all the adults in this way, only to come into heads-up mode against the 11 year old son of a friend of mine. Aided by his dad only in that he kept reminding the kid not to show his cards, the kid’s strategy amounted to “play every hand, raise every turn.” Literally. The kid went in on every hand, no matter how weak, and bet up on every… single… opportunity. This is a terrible strategy to live by because it depends 100% on luck, but it does have the advantage of being potentially disruptive to everyone else’s game. The kid’s automatic raises amounted to a constant gut-check, driving players either to fold or overbid marginal hands, and his lack of strategy meant that everyone’s attempts to control momentum went for naught. And because the kid got lucky on every… single… river card, he just kept on winning.  it came down to me and him.

Me: pocket 5s. Him: 2-8 offsuit, the second worst starting hand in the game. I go in small before the flop. The flop gives me another 5 and some garbage; a 3 and a 6. At this point I go all in, knowing that trying to play mindgames against the ATM sitting across from me would be silly. He calls, leaving himself with only 10 chips or so. I win this, I’m thisclose to winning it all. The spawn is trash talking about all the toys he’s going to buy. The turn is an 8. I let out a breath. Junk.

And the kid drew a 4 on the river to give him the damn gutshot straight starting from one of the weakest hands in Texas Hold ‘Em. I lost to the Dorchester Kid.

Then, on Monday, the power went out four times during Revenge of the Sith. They finally gave me my money back, but I figure they should have kicked in a few extra bucks for skipping over the fight scenes and making sure to restart the show in time to show me all the “I love youuuu!!!!” parts uninterrupted.

So… how’s it end?


Posted by Johno on 05/31/05 at 09:38 AM
Just So You Know • Permalink